Goblet of Fire: Redux
by Mr. Zemme
Summary: I've read too many fanfictions that give the magical world a cheap knockoff culture derived in large part from the muggle world.  I'm sick of it.    Central idea: Wizards and Witches have always had equality because of magical powers and contraception.


Chapter 1: Re-Introduction

Lord Harry James Potter strode onto Platform 9 3/4, followed closely by his dogfather and guardian, Lord Sirius Orion Black. Harry had dressed in a simple silk robe of Gryffindor colours. His collar and hood were as shocking emerald as his eyes. Two small silver rimmed crests, side by side, proclaimed his status as Scion Gwynedd and heir London. From good feeding, care, and kindness throughout childhood, Scion Gwynedd, heir London stood almost two metres, looked eighteen, and was rather an impressive fourteen year old overall.

Any imposition suggested by Scion Gwynedd's carriage, however, was dwarfed by Lord Sirius Black. The eyes of Lord London, Regent Gwynedd were hardened from betrayal and over a decade of political and economic wrangling. A manic gleam remained from his marauding days, conveying both humour and danger. He, being thirty-five, was far better built than his heir. His clothes added to the impression, perfectly befitting a Lord. Lord London wore extraordinary silk robes in Slytherin green and blood red - the colours of Earldom of London. The trim was done up in rich red and sky blue - the colours of the Duchy of Gwynedd. His collar was a blue-grey that matched his eyes. The crests of London and Gwynedd gleamed from his chest, outlined in gold.

The two men observed the hustle and bustle of the station, and, after a minute or so, simultaneously turned to look at each other. The older grinned; the younger smirked.

"You weren't just waiting and watching me, were you?" Sirius asked. He received a faux glare from his heir in response. "Okay, okay" Sirius relented with a laugh, "I'm still going to test you. What was the Scion of Yorkshire wearing?"

They both smirked at that. If Harry had noticed _anything_, it would have been what Susan was wearing. "She wore a robe the colours of the Duchy of Yorkshire without a hood, no doubt to fully advertise her newly developed assets."

"Newly developed and soon to be explored no doubt. Now -"

"- Already done that" Harry interrupted.

"At the world cup?" Harry nodded. "But I thought you were with Miss Patil?" Harry just smirked. "Damn. Good show. Concurrent or successive?" Harry really glared at him this time. Sirius just laughed, though. "Fine, fine. I know you dislike concurrency. Now, since we've wasted enough time on your liaisons -"

"- you've wasted you mean -"

"-I'll give you a hard one and we can wrap this up. What is the Scion of Oxfordshire wearing?"

"Lord Richard is wearing ... um... he's wearing school robes with muggle sneakers."

"Good. Now, where is Wormtail?"

Harry responded at once, "He's walking through borrowed time."

Sirius smiled at their traditional closing of the game. Then he put both hands on Harry's shoulders, still lower than his own, and spoke. "Now, Harry-me-Boy, do well this semester."

"In pranks or school?"

"Both if you can manage it. Remember that this is the year everything changes. All of you kids are becoming adults now. Still try to have fun, but remember not to cross that careful line with your liaisons. The consequences of trespassing too far past it is disastrous, even for you."

"I know. I've been good," Harry said with some petulance.

"Yes, you have, but I think Miss Patil, Miss Bell, and Lady Susan are quite enough. You don't want to trample on the Hogwarts hierarchy."

"And I certainly don't want to trample on the political connections," Harry finished. "I know Sirius. The women know the rules. They've actually become fairly good friends. I'll be fine."

"Good." And they shared a hug. As Harry turned to walk away, Sirius shouted after him. "Oh, and Harry." Harry turned. "I know you got an ego boost this past month, but please _try_ to have a calm year."

Harry just laughed, waved, and turned again. Sirius apparated back to his mansion in London.

Harry continued to walk, occasionally stopping to converse with an acquaintance. Everyone wanted to talk about the Ministry's reaction to the Death Eater attack at the Cup. Harry insisted that he knew nothing except the private thoughts of London and Gwynedd, and those, he reiterated again and again, were private. By the time he reached the luggage compartment, he had established that the Malfoys were here - damnation - and that the Weasleys were not - double damnation.

Harry extracted his shrunken trunk from his pocket. Placed it into an open space, and tapped it with his wand. The trunk immediately expanded. With a satisfied smile, Harry withdrew his wand. He looked at all of his fellow students heaving and huffing with their trunks and smirked. It was good to be from a noble house.

As if she could read his mind, his best friend spoke from right behind him, "you know, that really isn't fair Harry."

Harry almost jumped; he had not been paying attention to his surroundings. Sirius would have been angry. Calming himself, Harry turned around. "Hello Hermione."

As normal, his mouth dried upon seeing her in muggle clothes. Their clothes were far more revealing than anything wizards wore in public. She wore a tight top, blue, and an unconnected beige bottom that barely covered half of her upper leg.

Harry gave a slow whistle, making sure she saw his slow crawling look upwards, "Damn Hermione. Sexier every bloody year."

"As it should be no doubt," came her terse reply. She might no longer be disgusted with his behaviour, but she still did not enjoy it.

Harry found himself even more attracted by her incorruptibly stiff behaviour. So he smiled and gave her a hug.

"Oh Hermione, ever the muggle. Need help with that?" And, without waiting for a reply, Harry silently levitated her trunk into the luggage compartment.

"Mr. Potter -" She said in a fair impression of Professor McGonagall.

"- Lord Harry technically -" Harry interrupted.

"- you are absolutely incorrigible."

"And yet you persist." And then they both laughed. Harry dropped some of his swagger. Hermione dropped some of her fastidiousness.

"Oh, it's good to see you again," Harry said with a real smile.

"I saw you a week ago."

"Still a pleasure. Let's get a compartment."

So, the two friends walked into the mostly deserted Express. Harry convinced Hermione to change immediately, if only to avoid further distraction. He stood outside the compartment door contemplating the oddity that was the muggle culture.

Just as the Scion of Suffolk walked onto the train, Hermione opened the door. Harry saluted the Scion of Suffolk, who returned the salute just as he came upon Harry. They both stepped into the compartment.

"Hi Neville" Hermione said, which elicited a "hey" in response.

For Hermione's sake, Neville and Harry tried to steer clear of politics for as long as they could. Unfortunately, all three of them had spent last weekend at the Quidditch World Cup and so the small talk was quickly exhausted.

Just after the train jerked into motion, the conversation stumbled upon Death Eaters and politics. Hermione took up her book and tried to ignore the boys, while Neville asked Harry's opinion.

"I know He's coming back Neville," Harry said softly. "I can feel it in my scar. It's like first year with Quirrell, just weaker." They paused to absorb the prospective doom. Harry then asked, "what does Dowager Longbottom think?"

"You know her." And both teens smiled.

Dowager Longbottom came from a line constantly endangered by its enemies. Her husband had had four older siblings, but each one had been assassinated by their family enemies until finally he, the youngest, was Earl. Thrust suddenly into power, Dowager Longbottom and her husband went years without children, yet through skill, power, and sometimes sheer luck, they survived. Then Frank Longbottom was born. And he was a wunderkind. What he lacked in relative magical weakness, he more than made up with skill in defensive magic, potions, herbology, and runes. He found and married a brilliant and powerful Pureblood from the baronet class. Then, when Frank was only sixteen, the Earl of Suffolk was murdered and Frank was suddenly thrust, childless, into that role.

With the help of Harry's own father, though, Frank Longbottom had enough friends and allies to remain safe. At least, until he entered Voldemort's civil war. Both he and his wife were tortured into insanity when Neville was just two. Dowager Longbottom had protected her grandson, occasionally with force, since then. She was a tough old woman.

Harry smiled at Neville. Yes, he knew her.

With a look at Hermione, Harry said "and you know her. She hates politics. I'll go do my politicking. You should talk about your greenhouses."

Harry stood, gave Hermione, who had now raised her head from her book, a soft smile, and left.

[BREAK]

Left inside, Hermione expelled a rough huff. She turned to Neville and complained, "he really can't leave off, can he?"

"No, he can't" Neville's tone was even.

"It's annoying. It's _disgusting_. He has to be a big shot, the strong man, Mr. Alpha Male, Harry-eh!-Potter. I love him dearly, but Merlin I can't stand him sometimes."

Neville looked at her oddly, then started to chuckle. The chuckle strengthened until it was a laugh, a great booming laugh. Hermione scowled at him.

"Hermione," he chided, "think of what you just said: he _can't_ leave off, he _has_to be strong."

"And?"

"He _is_ Harry-Bleeding-Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived - not to mention the Boy-Who-Guarded and the Boy-Who-Slew. He _is_ Scion of Gwynedd, the heir of London. He's not some unknown, non-descript kid off the street. He _must_ maintain his persona or he's broken. But, if he persists as he has, then, by the time we graduate, he may be, at least politically speaking, more powerful than Dumbledore."

Drain of all her venom, Hermione slumped back into her seat. "I know, I know. He doesn't have to enjoy it so much."

Neville stood to look out the Express's window. They were rushing over hills and through towns at their normal hundred twenty kilometres an hour.

Eventually, Neville replied, lengthening his words in uncertainty, "I'm not actually sure he does actually..."

"Harry Potter? Not like attention? I'm sorry Nev, but he loves it."

[BREAK]

Harry really hated all this attention. Normally, it was bearable. But ever since the Death Eaters attacked the world cup, it seemed that everyone wanted his opinion. The Peers, and even those whose parents were only elected to the Wizengamot, wanted him as Scion Gwynedd, heir London. Everyone else wanted him as Harry-bleeding-Potter, the-boy-who-wouldn't-die.

His thoughts were interrupted by a soft voice from his right. "Hey there. What has you so vapid?"

Harry turned, again admonishing himself for his inattentiveness. He saw the radian beauty before him and bowed over her extended hand. He kissed it. "Lady Susan," he said by way of greeting.

"Lord Harry," she replied, "you failed to answer my question."

"That I did. I was considering that, at a certain point, one collects too many titles."

"Ah, yes, you have too much notoriety, too much attention, too much influence, and, no doubt, too much money. You poor baby." They both chuckled.

"Well... when you put it that way."

"Anyway, you couldn't get rid of them. Which would you choose?"

"I could do without the Boy-Who-Lived."

"I know love, but the rest of us couldn't. That monster killed almost my whole family. Same goes for your other hyphenations. Would you really want Quirrell to get the stone? Or Miss Weasley to die?"

"And I guess ditching the Peer titles would prove problematic, huh?"

"Not at all... well, that is unless you want the Malfoys to claim the Earldom of London." Harry made a face at the reminder that the Malfoys were his closest relatives and Susan laughed. "And you don't dare ditch mine either."

"And what is your title for me, Lady Susan?"

"Sexy Arse!"

Harry barked out a laugh, "Well, that one I'd never want to forsake."

"Then keep up your exercises," Susan suggested with only the ghost of a smile playing on her lips.

Harry's smile was more pronounced. And, with squiggly eyebrows, he asked, "And what is the fair Lady Susan doing this evening?"

Her smiled died instantly. She flushed and cast her eyes briefly downwards. "Apologising to Lord Harry for spurning his company apparently. I am already engaged for the evening to Mister Macmillan."

"Ah," said Harry intelligently. He covered his misstep immediately. "Mister Macmillan is a good man. The liaison creates a strong inter-house bond. And the Barony of Warwickshire is a powerful ally. The Duke and Duchess of Yorkshire are to be commended for their choice."

Susan flushed deeper, but her mouth narrowed. "Yes, my parents are very happy, but you don't have to pretend it was their idea with me Harry."

He noticed her slip, but was unsure if it was intentional. He would meet her regardless. "I know Su, but the forms should be obeyed. And he really is a good man. I shall happily admit, even against the forms, that I shall miss your company tonight."

"Take time with Miss Bell tonight. You've been neglecting her. Lady Miranda told my mother."

"Well, I see that I cannot escape the grape vine." They both smiled at that "And, speaking of things I cannot escape..."

"Yes, yes. Go politicking. But first," she executed a formal bow, "may I have the honour of a kiss?"

"I thought you'd never ask." And they shared a gentle kiss. Susan's kisses were light and fresh, a balm to the soul.

"Now, Lord Harry, enjoy your day." Susan's smile was now more mischievous, testing.

Harry guessed at the reason, "you too Susie," and was rewarded with a brilliant smile.

Harry kept walking down the hallway, looking for Peers he knew. Occasionally, he'd stop to talk to a younger Peer, a first or second year. They had yet to undergo their proper training and so were slow on the niceties. But Harry's training demanded that he stop. So, he stopped.

About a third of the way down, Harry found several Peers he did know. He groaned at the collection. This would not be pleasant. Still, he knocked and waited the obligatory two seconds. When no locking charm was forthcoming, he tried to smile. And he entered.

Harry mused at the odds of the collection before him as he looked into a sea of his Slytherin classmates. Even the odds of them all being in the same year were minute. Quite a bit of political power rested in this room.

Draco Malfoy was about to speak, but Pansy Parkinson clamped down on his arm hard. Good - she was teaching him.

Harry locked eyes with Daphne Greengrass and saluted. "Greetings Lady Daphne. I hope this day finds you well."

Daphne stood and returned the salute. "Very well Lord Harry, thank you. Is the Earl of London Well?"

"My grandfather is very well, thank you." That was the obligatory reply. That or 'they are slightly unwell,' which required an apology from the inquirer. The only time Harry had ever used that reply was when Sirius had been in bed with The Roclicks. They had been unsure whether he would survive. "And the Duke and Duchess of Kent?"

"They are very well, thank you."

Now, Harry was required to notice the others, in rank order. He saluted "Lady Pansy." She saluted back. Luckily, to the rest, he no longer had to salute. They, however, had to bow to him. So - it worked out really.

"Miss Davis." She filled her part admirably. "Mister Nott." He bowed courteously, albeit stiffly. "Miss Bulstrode." She replied with impressive grass for so large a girl.

Here was the tricky one. "Mister Malfoy."

"Mister Potter." His reply did not go over well. Nott groaned, Parkinson sighed, Tracey hissed, Millicent cringed, and Daphne closed her eyes momentarily. Harry admired Daphne's control. He also had to look at her, since it was her responsibility to correct Malfoy's behaviour. Daphne turned to Malfoy and in a sharp voice said, "Draco." Even Harry flinched. "We are not yet at school. Please use proper address."

The blonde boy looked around the room. The closest thing to support he had was the impenetrable stares of his bodyguards, Crabbe and Goyle. Finally, seemingly accepting his position, Malfoy raised himself and gave an almost indistinguishable bow. It was deep enough, however, that Harry could not pick a fight.

"Lord Harry" he ground out before sitting immediately.

Now, Harry knew that he had discretion to acknowledge the presence of Crabbe and Goyle. Strictly speaking, it would be rude not to do so. It would be an implicit slight on his Peers, a fairly overt admission that their companions were not good enough for Harry.

But, Harry also that Crabbe and Goyle were in the compartment only as a courtesy to Malfoy. So, as a courtesy to himself, Harry decided to ignore them.

Now, an actual conversation could occur. Although traditionally the conversation was chosen by a Peer in the highest tier present, Daphne or Harry currently, any person could start the conversation if he had a sufficiently important topic.

Thus, inevitably, Malfoy spoke first. "Hey Po... hem ... Lord Harry, I hope your tent was not too chose to the demonstration," he lengthened the last word unnecessarily, "at the world cup. We wouldn't want the heir of Gwynedd and London to get hurt."

Leave it to Draco Malfoy to ask after your health in the perfect tone to inform you that he wanted anything but. Still, Harry was obliged to respond.

"Scion Gwynedd, heir London. Also, I'm sure the Death Eaters couldn't have gotten through the wards if they'd tried. And, we all know they wouldn't have tried. The Earl of London already informed Sir Lucius what would happen if he tried to endanger me again."

Not wanting to argue, Harry then immediately changed the topic. "Lady Pansy, were you able to accompany your father on his trip this summer?"

Parkinson immediately broke into a fairly large smile. "Yes, and it was lovely. Thank you. You know all about the tournament, I assume?" Harry nodded. "Good. I had to explain it to Draco. Anyways, well, it was lovely to help my father during his visit to Beauxbaton, although I could really only understand every other word. And I got to meet the Minister of France, although, to be honest, my favourite was their Minister of Defence - little short squat man with fiery eyes. But I also got to see how their Headmistress picked who got to go. There are a lot of very talented wizards in that group. And I don't know... hem... well, it was fun. Thank you for asking." She had stopped with a slight blush after a sharp look from Daphne. Apparently, few of the Scions had learnt the forms as well as Harry and Daphne.

Before anyone else could speak, Daphne stood and walked towards Harry. "If I could have a minute in private, Lord Harry?"

"Certainly." And Harry said his goodbyes about as soon as he could have possibly hoped.

Harry followed Daphne out of the compartment and down the hall. Much to his surprise, Daphne walked into a compartment full of Gryffindors. The rest of Harry's year was there: Pavarti Patil, Lavender Brown, Ron Weasley, Dean Thomas, and Seamus Finnegan."

Having two children of Ducal houses calling allowed Daphne to circumvent some of the otherwise obligatory niceties. "Lady Pavarti, I'm sorry to intrude, but I request a word with you in private on behalf of myself and Lord Harry."

Most of the occupants had already started moving as soon as Daphne said "private," but Ron Weasley just didn't get it. Harry swore he was like Draco Malfoy. The only difference was that Ron's rudeness was ignorance, not malice. Okay, so that was a pretty big difference.

Ron said, "um... don't we get a 'hey' first? Harry? Greengrass?"

Simultaneously, the two Peers turned to Ron and said "Hello Hidesman Weasley." Then they looked back to Pivarti.

For her part, Pavarti simply said "thanks for leaving mates" as if she expected Daphne's request to be obeyed. And, once Ron saw that he had no support, it was.

After every one left, Daphne shut the door, blackened the windows, concealed the cracks of the door, put up a scrying ward, and silenced the walls. Without thinking, Harry added several silenced detection wards.

Pavarti looked concerned now. "Lady Daphne, Lord Harry, what's going on?"

Before Daphne could respond, Harry cracked a goofy grin. "I'd like to know that too."

"We're here to talk about the Yule Ball," said Daphne.

Pavarti immediately caught on. She said, "should we invite Lords Neville and Richard and Lady Susan?"

Harry interrupted what Daphne was about to say. "Wait, what _about_ the Yule Ball?"

Daphne gave him a look - half pitying, half accusatory. "We're fourteen now Lord Harry. It's time we started to prepare for after graduation," by which Harry knew she meant preparing for the several years of power grabbing that occurred right after graduation and led to one's eventual marriage. "Therefore," Daphne continued, "It's the perfect time to demonstrate a preference among our liaisons."

"I can understand that, but why did you gather us here?"

"Think about it Gwynedd." Harry cringed. Formal and yet familiar, using his Peerage but not his honorific, and making it sound natural. Daphne really was quite gifted. "Are you really going to try and choose Miss Patil without talking to Lady Pavarti here first? Or for that matter, can you possibly consider pursuing Lady Susan without talking to anyone else?"

"Actually, I was thinking of pursing Lady Astoria." Daphne's glare hardened, so Harry continued seriously. "I believe Lady Susan and I only need the approval of the Duke and Duchess of Yorkshire."

This time, Pavarti spoke. Her voice conveyed friendship and counsel, which was a relief from Daphne's aggression. "That might be true formalistically Harry, but do you really think that your families will be able to keep all of their allies if they see three of the strongest Peerages combining without advise or consent from many of us. And think of your enemies..." She left what his enemies would do unsaid. He now understood.

Harry sighed. He really did like Susan. She loved practical jokes. She took great enjoyment in adventures. She was unfailing interested in the world. Plus, she was quite smart and even more beautiful. He could quite possibly have learnt to love her.

Harry thought back to what Sirius had said. He had been right. It was time to grow up.

Out loud, Harry said "Susan and I always were a pipe dream, huh?"

Daphne said "yes" at the exact time Pavarti said "no necessarily." The two women glared at each other.

The three Peers took several moments to consider what would happen now. Pavarti looked out the window towards the rolling hills. Her sister was going to be mentioned again; she knew it. Daphne stood there, looking expectantly at Harry. Harry allowed himself to sit and steeled himself for his inevitable separation from Susan. Hopefully, he could delay the inevitable till at least the end of the year.

After about two minutes, Daphne's patience snapped. "So Gwynedd, whom will you take?"

Harry smiled; it was nice to see Daphne riled. Still, he managed to keep the humour from his voice and answer disinterestedly, "I'm unsure why it's any concern of the Duchy of Kent, especially its daughter who shan't inherit for about thirty years." Harry could not avoid rubbing his own status in her face.

She did not give him the satisfaction, however. "I'm asking as a Peer advisor. I might not inherit for some time, but you inherit in less than two years. You have to be prepared for it, and so your preparation ought to start now."

Harry was stunned, but Daphne was right. Traditionally, if the Peer's parent or grand-parent who was originally from the line was alive, then the Peer wouldn't inherit until he had been married for twenty years. This gave the Peer time to make a name for himself and become comfortable within his marriage. Both of these were all but obligatory for political, and often actual, survival. Harry was protected somewhat by his societal importance, by Sirius's position, and by what he had accomplished at school. But, after he graduated, if he didn't have a wife, and, more importantly, an heir, his position was in danger from everyone who hated what he represented and for what he was willing to fight.

Too much of the Peerage would love nothing more than to see the Duchy of Gwynedd fall to history and the Earldom of London to fall to the Malfoys.

Daphne saw the recognition in his eyes. She pounced, "So, will you marry Miss Patil?"

Pavarti pulled herself from the window and cut into whatever response Harry would give. "I thank you for the concern Lady Daphne, but the Scion of Gwynedd can, if he desires, make a formal inquiry with my mother. Lord Harry may also, of course, speak with me informally at anytime."

Daphne glared at Pavarti for spoiling her fun. She persisted regardless, "fine; then what about Granger?"

Pavarti gave a hollow laugh and saved Harry from answering. "You serious cannot suggest that the Scion of Gwynedd, heir of London would tie himself to a muggleborn who has shown little power. A keen mind can only go so far."

"He could take her as his first confidant if he doesn't want to marry her."

"And he would scare away most of the Peers from future marriages. Don't think how I noticed you didn't mention Miss Bell."

"Ladies," Harry said standing. Something about him, from him, within him silenced both women immediately. "Please allow us to leave this conversation for the future. Lady Daphne, I thank you for your concern. I shall consider all those whom I desire. You need not unduly concern yourself with the future Duchess of Gwynedd."

Daphne replied stiffly, as if she'd been slighted. "Well, I'm at least happy to see that you learnt your responsibility today. Let your power live forever."

"Let your power live forever." Pavarti and Harry repeated the traditional parting. Daphne turned and swept from the compartment.

There was a pause when she left. Then, both Harry and Pavarti let out a sigh at exactly the same time. They turned to each other in surprise. Then they laughed.

"Well," Pavarti said, "that went well."

The door opened and the others re-entered to find Harry and Pavarti laughing. Ron looked miffed but everyone else seemed relieved.

Dean voiced their thoughts. "No one's head rolled. So it went well, huh?"

This of course led to more hilarity. Pavarti collapsed next to Lavender, crying through her laughter. Harry controlled himself somewhat better, but his cheeks were still red and eyes still glistened. Their companions were nonplussed.

Finally, Ron, in his raw manner, said, "well... what happened?"

Ron was a good guy, but Merlin was he pushy. Harry replied nonetheless, "let us just say that neither Pavarti nor I have endeared ourselves to Lady Daphne. I'm not sure it went well, but it was at least informative."

No one quite knew what to make of that non-answer, so the conversation turned to other topics. For the next fifteen minutes, Harry practised the refined art of learning without divulging. Pavarti looked on in amused silence, which made Harry reflect that playing the game with this collection of novices was neither fair nor fun.

Unfortunately, Harry did not find it particularly useful either. Dean Thomas had gone to a muggle sports camp and had apparently forgotten how to use several muggle contraptions, none of which made sense to Harry when Dean tried to explain them.

Harry learnt that Lavender was allowed to assist in an East London zoo. She went on for several minutes about the unicorns there. She became exceptionally familiar with them, as she was the only person who could approach them with ease.

The most interesting piece of information Harry received, however, was from Ron. Apparently, the Dark Mark had been cast by his wand. Ron insisted with unnecessary vigour that he did not cast the spell. He did say that the wand had been found with Mr. Crouch's house elf.

Finally, Harry had spent enough time conversing to leave without offence. He stayed for another minute, as Seamus to finish one last contrived joke. Harry allowed himself to laugh briefly.

Then, using it as a perfect cover, said "well, thank you very much for the good humour, but I must continue on my way." Everyone wished him well, and he wished them the same. As he finished, he turned to Pavarti and saluted, "Let our power lived forever."

"Let our power live forever," she answered. Harry turned his back and was just about to the door when she called out, "and Lord Harry?"

Harry turned, surprised at her formality. "Yes?"

"I would ask that you eventually let our connection follow your decision from earlier."

It took Harry several moments to figure out what she meant. Then, the right mental gear shifted or the right synapse fired. Pavarti was warning him not to seriously consider her sister as a future wife. It was a warning, but laced with a plea. And, although it was well within her right to ask as the Scion, Harry's ego, still very much fourteen, rebelled against the suggestion that one would not want him. His "why?" was too harsh.

Pavarti closed her eyes in passing pain, "the connection between our houses is already strong, and the Earldom of Cambridgeshire needs all of the assets we can preserve."

Of course. It made perfect sense. The Duchy of Gwynedd and the Earldom of Cambridgeshire had been allies since Pavarti's great-grandmother was voted into their seat about a hundred years ago. She had been an extraordinarily skilled ward crafter, who had invented, among many hundreds of spells, the Fidelius charm. Marrying Padma to Harry would do little to strengthen their family connection unless Padma was to inherit the Earldom. But, if that had been the case, then their union would face much the same problem as any union between Harry and Susan.

Also, for all of its power, Cambridgeshire was a relatively friendless Peerage. That made them exposed and vulnerable. And so, Harry knew that he could force the marriage if he really wanted it. And so, Harry understood the second part of her warning, her plea: don't force us to cripple ourselves, she had asked. For, having Padma marry outside of established alliances would help remedy Cambridgeshire's present weakness.

This insight all occurred as a flash behind Harry's eyes. Pavarti, misunderstanding the flash, tense. But her stress was relived almost immediately. Harry said, "when do you want the asset free?"

"By... graduation," she said, letting the last word linger. She meant by his engagement.

"Sure thing Pavarti." He turned to leave, but she called him back once more.

"Oh, and Harry?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

Harry just flashed his crooked grin and left. The last hour had been a whirlwind. He'd felt invincible as he stept out of the Platform's Floo connection. Now, he felt as if the world was conspiring against him. Harry could deal with Padma being verboten. They connected mentally, and had quite a bit of fun besides, but they didn't breath together - for lack of a less precise phrase - as a mated pair should.

Harry felt the loss of Susan keenly though. She had been a dear friend since childhood. And even though their Hogwarts responsibilities kept them apart too often, there was always peace in each other's company.

Merlin, he really had to figure out what was going on.

[BREAK]

"Okay, what's going on?" came Ron's exasperated inquiry as soon as the compartment door closed behind Harry.

Pavarti just smiled at him, sat down next to Lavender, and started sharing gossip. It was truly amazing how much Lavender learnt in the ten minutes she was outside. The most interesting was apparently Cedric Diggory, the only son of Sir Amos, was courting the brilliant but title-less Ravenclaw, Cho Chang.

Ron wasn't through with his inquisition, however. He tried a side tactic, "come on Lavender. Aren't you at all curious?"

"I learned a long time ago not to get involved in Peer politics."

"What, when?" Seamus said, although Ron had looked down and blushed.

Lavender's face too went dark at Seamus's question. She did not respond.

Dean did answer. "Since Nott."

Seamus cringed, for even he, Mr. I-forgot-my-books..and-parchment...and-quills Finnegan, remembered what happened with Nott.

Lavender was not brilliant like Hermione, and she wasn't even academic like Dean, but she was exceptionally powerful. Her rather public Natus started towards the end of their second year, over a month after her thirteenth birthday. That's what happens when your Natus ruins your Spring Solstice vacation plans, which you had been ceaselessly bragging about for months.

Over night, or at least over Solstice break, Lavender went from an annoying gossip to quite possibly the strongest witch in their year. The poor girl was bombarded with letters, gifts, and even outright proposals from a slew of Peers who were politically and financially strong but magically weak. Although the most traumatizing for Lavender had been when Alfred Parkinson - Pansy's then Seventh year cousin - had asked her out to Hogsmeade during breakfast in the Great Hall, by far the most entertaining had been Theodore Nott.

Nott had apparently learnt a rumour that Lavender liked poetry in dactylic decametre. Now, a dactylic foot is rare enough as it is, but nothing is written in decametre - ever. So, Nott attempted to arrange his own poem. To say that his attempt was unsuccessful would be akin to calling a Troll homely, or even pretty. The class in which he presented it to her laughed at him for a several long minutes, even the Slytherins; McGonagall couldn't even repress her smile.

So, in some ways Lavender did enjoy the poem. For the next week, she couldn't stop laughing whenever Nott was in the same room as she was. This hilarity spread to the whole house when it was confirmed that the inciting rumour had first developed from the Weasley twins.

Since then, Lavender shut herself off from Peer politics completely. She still received a marriage proposal, gift, or letter every month or two, but those she could ignore. Pavarti had never wanted to scare Lavender, so she had never told her friend that Lavender's connection to the Earldom of Cambridgeshire was probably the only thing that saved her from a love potion.

Pavarti turned her attention back to the present and noticed that Ron was still talking to her. She tried to get her brain to catch up.

"- this and Peer that. I tell you, it's infuriating. Can't you just be a normal person and tell us what's going on?"

Pavarti bristled at his tone. He had better watch himself. Although Pavarti was accepting of a certain degradation in address from those who knew no better, a Peer like Daphne would not be so accommodating. Stronger families than the Weasleys had been destroyed for less.

"Watch yourself Ron," she all but growled. Getting herself under control, she continued evenly. "We were talking about the Yule Ball." Hopefully a partial truth would satisfy.

Ron groaned, "Why? Lavender wrote me about that this summer. By Merlin does it sound boring."

Pavarti's mind went into a brief whirlwind. Apparently Ron and Lavender were writing this summer. That connection could frustrate the Peers considerably. Lavender would have to be warned of the danger to Ron. Pavarti looked over at her friend to see if her suppositions were going too far off the beaten path, but Lavender would not meet her eye. Damn.

She noticed that Seamus was speaking, "though it wouldn't be so bad if your date was pretty. Think about taking Mandy Brocklehurst."

Ron smiled, "Or Cho Chang. You know, the Ravenclaw seeker. Bugger me, she's gorgeous."

"She won't," Dean smirked.

Ron scowled at him but wasn't through. "Marion Mann would be nice too." He grinned, placing both hands, palms towards him, before his chest appreciatively.

Pavarti just rolled her eyes. Marion Mann was the eldest daughter of Sir James Mann. She was sixteen, gifted in looks and power, and engaged to James Turpin, a twenty five year old heir to a barony, and the cousin of a Ravenclaw, Lisa, in their year. Of course, there was almost no chance that either Ron or Seamus would get up the nerve to ask out the beautiful Seventh year Ravenclaw, so there was no cause for alarm.

Seamus continued to play with the idea. "I might even be able to stand Greengrass... at least if... you know..." he seemed to be unable to finish his fairly transparent thought.

Dean had no such compunctions. "if she puts out, you mean."

Seamus became very red but nodded. Pavarti just scowled. They had started down a dangerous track. But at least Daphne was a member of Slytherin, so it was unlikely that they'd actually follow through with their hormonal insanity.

Ron said, "well, if Harry goes with Bones, then one of us might be able to snag Katie."

That was too much, too dangerous. Pavarti felt compelled to speak. "Ron, you will do no such thing." He and Seamus both gaped at her. Dean just smirked; at least he had learnt. "Do you have any idea how dangerous your idea is?"

Ron just smiled, "yeah, I imagine asking any girl out might be dead scary."

Pavarti closed her eyes and let out another low growl. She seemed to be doing that too much lately. Ron had started to really get on her nerves.

She was calmed by Dean, who placed his hand on her arm. He said, "Ron, that's not it. One doesn't ask a Peer out -ever. You wait to be asked out."

"What! Why?"

"It's an insult otherwise."

"I always thought knowing someone liked you was a compliment."

"Maybe, but I doubt it. Still, that's not the point. The point isn't whether you like someone or not, the point is whether you ask her out or not. Without proper encouragement or permission, asking a Peer out says that you think you can control the Peer's destiny."

"But I was there when Harry asked Bones out, and Katie too for that matter. There was no encouragement, and I don't think he asked permission."

Pavarti groaned out, "but he's a Peer."

"So?"

"I'm going to go for a walk." Pavarti stood. "Lavender, would you care to join me?"

"Sure," said the blonde.

As they left, Pavarti looked at Dean. "Thank you."

"Anytime." When they left, Dean turned back to Ron. "As I hope you've managed to notice, Peers operate on a completely different level from the rest of us. They expect to date each other. But the dating has a very specific, very political purpose. Pavarti's sister and Harry almost had to date. If they hadn't, whichever family refused would have insulted the other. If Harry had a younger brother, he would most likely be dating Pavarti right now."

"And you'd be okay with that" Ron asked in astonishment.

Dean just laughed. "It's not like I'd have a choice, but yeah, I'd be fine with it. We're getting a little off track. The reason you can't ask Katie or Daphne out is that, except in very specific circumstances, is that you cannot ask out your social superior. For example, you could ask out Chang, because she's your social equal. You might even have been able to ask out Miss Mann, who's just your social superior, if you were particularly powerful or wealthy." Ron went a little red at that. "Except, of course, she's engaged. So -"

"- Wait, she's engaged? At Seventeen!"

"Actually, she's sixteen. Why?" Ron didn't answer, so Dean filled in the silence. "I mean, I know it's a little young, but my friend back home's sister is pregnant and she's only seventeen. What's wrong." For Ron really did look like he was going to choke and keel over.

Ron just shook his head in response. "I don't know what muggles get up to Dean, but wizards don't get married until thirty or thirty-five. And as for kids, well don't muggles have potions or something to stop that sort of thing?"

Now Dean was flummoxed. "Potions... no... I mean, there are these things called condoms, and there are pills, which are kinda like potions. But wait, you said that wizards usually get married at thirty?" Ron nodded. "But that can't be right; Pavarti said that her parents were married for a decade when they had her. And she was born when they were about thrity-five. And I know for a fact that Harry's parents were twenty when he was born."

Ron put his arms up in surrender. "Look mate, I don't know what they got up to. I just know what's normal. My Mum was thirty-six when my parents were married. My Dad was thirty-nine. A couple years later, my oldest brother Bill was born."

"So, how old were your parents when you were born?"

"They were about fifty."

"Wow... wizards are weird. Fifty is grandparent age in the muggle world."

"Really? Wow... muggles are weird. Dad turned fifty about a week or so before the twins were born."

[BREAK]

"Oh, Fred, George, I bet your mother wished you'd never been born!"

Harry laughed along with Katie Bell, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, and Lee Jordon at a story of the twins, Fred and George Weasley. When they were five, their mother had hid cookies from them. They knew she had put them on the top shelf of a cabinet. So, they nicked their brother Bill's wand, and Fred attempted to summon the jar of cookies from the top shelf. He was both more and less successful than he wanted to be. He ended up summoning the entire cabinet.

It fell over, broke, and spilt not only the cookies but honey, flower, pots, pans, dried fruit, and even a collection of cooking books all over the floor. Not to be outdone, George grabbed the wand from his brother and tried to hide the destruction from their mother. Long story short: Mrs. Weasley was finding invisible refuse for months.

"Were you punished?" Lee asked.

"Nah," one of the twins - Harry thought it was George - said.

"The whole bloody cabinet came down. She didn't think were that destructive," said the other twin.

"Yet," qualified the first.

"Yet," confirmed the second.

They looked at each other sheepishly for a moment, and then the twin whom Harry thought was Fred said "also, by the time she found out about the cabinet, we were already in time out for turning Ron's teddy bear into a spider."

"A pink spider!"

This set off a new round of laughter. Everyone in Gryffindor tower knew Ron's opinions on spiders.

Harry and the members of the compartment spent the next half hour in relative frivolity. They discussed their summer, pranks, adventures, fun, and even learning. Eventually, conversation meandered around to the pranks Fred and George had pulled on Percy because he kept prattling off about cauldron thickness. That conversation too dissipated into hilarity.

When it subsided, the twin Harry thought was George turned to him. "So, Harry, where did you disappear to the second week of August?"

Harry froze, but only momentarily. "Huh?" he said, buying some time.

"Well, we were writing like every couple of days and then suddenly we hear nothing for a week."

He thought of a passable lie, "Oh, well, I was just flooded with letters. I couldn't really respond."

This caught Katie's attention, and Harry cursed his stupidity. "Really Harry? Should I be jealous? I didn't get a letter from you that week either, neither did Susan I believe."

Angelina jumped in, "So, who is she?" Angelina completely ignored the glare that Katie sent her.

Harry felt stuck for a moment. He couldn't tell them, but they would press him until he left or gave them some passable excuse. After a too long pause, he thought of the perfect thing.

Leaning towards the twins, Harry said, "I was working on the mother of all pranks. It will be difficult, and, even if we're successful, the school might never know we succeeded. But, if all goes well, we'd best Dumbledore himself. Are you in?"

Even before Harry had started to speak, his conspiratory manner lit the twin's eyes with mischief. By the time he said "prank," they had grins on their faces. And, by the time he asked for their support, they were grinning like the Cheshire cat.

Simultaneously, they said "we're in!"

"Good. So, does anyone here know what's going on this year?"

Fred said, "Katie does. She refused to tell anyone."

Harry gave Katie a questioning look. She shrugged, saying "Mother didn't want me to tell anyone."

George tried to get it from Harry. "I take it you know, though."

Harry answered Katie, "Sirius didn't want me to tell anyone either, but this isn't anyone, this is Fred and George."

"Actually," Fred said, "we've decided to be George and Fred for today."

"Yup," added George, "George is absolutely right." Okay... so maybe Harry had been wrong about who was who.

Aloud, Harry just said, "whatever." He shook his head as if to clear it. "Hogwarts is playing host to the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

"No way!"

"Yes way Lee." They all chuckled.

"But," interjected the self-proclaimed Fred, "didn't the tournament end because too many competitors died?" Fred did not seem particularly perturbed by this. If anything, he and George were more excited by the prospect.

"Yup," said Harry, "which is why Dumbledore and the ministry cooked up some serious safety measures."

"Like what?" Angelina asked. Harry noticed that even Katie was fascinated now.

"And how do you know all of this anyways?" asked Katie.

Harry decided to answer Katie first, "Well, you know how I said that Sirius was somewhat of a trouble maker in his school days." The twins looked quite manic now. "Well, because of that and his position in the Wizengamot, Dumbledore asked him to figure out some precautions. One of them, the most important for us, is an age line set at seventeen."

"No..." breathed Lee. Katie seemed equally put out. Angelina and Alicia smirked at them; they were already seventeen.

George didn't seem so concerned. "And so that's the prank - how to get beyond the age line."

"Got it in one," confirmed Harry.

"So... how do we?" asked Katie.

At this, Harry looked somewhat sheepish, "I actually don't know..."

"What!" most of the compartment cried.

Katie voiced their incredulity. "You were so busy for a whole week that you couldn't write anyone, but you didn't figure out a way around the age line."

"I didn't even find a book on the age line. I spent the whole week just looking through the Black Family Library." He hoped that no one would question why he didn't just owl order the appropriate book. He tried to prevent the question. "What kind of failure I am is not important right now. What's important right now is getting past the age line. I suggest we meet after dinner tomorrow, let's say at seven?"

"Library?" asked Fred.

"Library," confirmed Harry.

Then Harry stood. Katie was still looking at him oddly and he didn't want to offer himself up for further questions. "Well, my fair gentle-pranksters, I must be off. It was a pleasure."

Katie had already stood preparing for the parting. Everyone else seemed surprised by his suddenness.

Harry executed a formal bow before Katie. "May I have the pleasure of a kiss Dear Katherine?" She blushed and complied. Her kiss was energy, enthusiasm, and adventure.

When they parted, Harry bowed again, this time over Katie's hand, and asked, "may I also have the honour of your company tonight?"

"Of course."

"I shall see you then."

And Harry left. If he could not have kisses of calm, then kisses of energy were welcome. The Bells were exceptionally well connected. They had over a century long working relationship with almost all of the other Peers. Of course, it was hard to anticipate how much of that would persist after a marriage to the Duchy of Gwynedd, which seemed to make enemies just by breathing. They were wealthy too, which would help. And they would give him another title, and one about which most other Peers could not complain. Duke, Earl, and, with Katie, Count - that was an impressive list of titles.

Of course, although far from dumb, Katie was not exceptionally smart. And the family was not known for their power; she was only slightly more powerful than Neville. Of course, power wasn't everything.

But it helped.

[BREAK]

Harry entered his original compartment about two hours after he had left it to hear Hormone's exasperated voice. "...but that's not all there is!"

"But it helps," Ginny shot back.

Ginevra Weasley had been Harry's constant, and consistently silent, companion since he rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets over a year ago. At first, Harry found her funny and cute - like a lost puppy. After about a fortnight, he found her annoying, and then irritating. But she rarely left his company, and Hermione had formed a close bond with the girl. Finally, Harry again learnt to tolerate her presence.

And now, when she noticed Harry's arrival, she amazingly did not clamp up and go red. Instead, she raised her eyes to look at his, with some amount of defiance he thought.

"Hi Ginny," Harry ventured.

She took a deep breath, and said rather quickly, "Hiya Harry." Immediately she broke eye contact and looked down. But with only the faintest hint of the famous Weasley blush.

Hermione encouraged the younger girl with a smile. Then she looked at Harry and frowned. "You look tired Harry."

Harry laughed and sat down next to Hermione, across from Neville and Ginny. It was little wonder that Harry looked tired. The World Cup was only a week ago, and, since then, Harry had followed Sirius along to meeting after meeting during the day. Then, at night, Sirius became a demon trainer, and set Harry through gruelling duelling exercise after gruelling duelling exercise. Each exercise left Harry exhausted but still itching to use more of his magic.

"So, what're we talking about?"

Hermione and Neville looked to Ginny, and the topic was effectively changed. Ginny remained silent for several moments. Seeing that she would not speak, Neville said "Ginny is concerned that she won't be asked to the Yule Ball. She says that she's not pretty enough. Hermione and I disagree."

"And," Hermione said, "I also don't think that looks are the only thing that matters."

"But they help," Ginny muttered.

Harry just laughed. Neville smiled. Ginny looked simultaneously pleased and dejected. Harry briefly wondered how someone could express both those emotions at once so clearly. Hermione just scowled at him.

It was Hermione's scowl that made Harry fight down a blush. Ginny's joke was rather funny, because she was absolutely right. Looks do very much help girls - and boys for that matter - get dates. But, Harry realized, his laugh could have been interpreted as agreement, as if he was saying that Ginny was not pretty enough to attract a date.

Harry leaned toward Ginny, who backed up. He took her hand. She blushed and he smiled. "Ginny," she managed to look at him, "You have nothing to worry about. Hermione is right. Looks are not all that matter, and your personality, though I see it far too rarely, is enough to ensnare any normal man, and quite a few extraordinary ones to boot."

As Harry leaned back, he noticed Hermione's deepened scowl. Even Neville was frowning now. Ginny's lips were trembling a little. Harry smirked, for he had just indirectly stressed Ginny's hypothetical poor looks.

He spoke again. "Plus, even if your personality is as silent with them as it is with me, you're far too beautiful not to temp every bloke at Hogwarts."

Neville's warm belly laugh resounded. Hermione's scowl turned to disappointed frustration. Ginny's transformation was complete. From tears to a radiant, if still somewhat watery, smile.

"You're an arse," Ginny said, now chuckling.

"I know. It's part of my charm."

Hermione huffed. "Honestly Harry, is there anything that can contain your arrogance."

"Yup," he said, his smirk growing into a full smile. "My love for you."

"Be serious Harry!"

"I can't," he protested, "that's my Godfather."

Hermione had now chosen to ignore him. They sat in silence for some time. Neville and Hermione reading tomes in their favourite subjects, Herbology and Arithmancy. Ginny seemed to be re-reading old letters. Harry just sat there, thinking about his liaisons.

Harry's thoughts rambled as uncontrolled thoughts are wont to do. About a half hour later, his thoughts had just rambled from how to pass the age line to what sort of students would be arriving from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang.

Ginny then said, "So, if beauty isn't all guys look for, then what else?"

Harry always found these questions tiresome. There was a certain type of girl that had to ask them often. Luckily, Hermione only sometimes strayed into this labyrinth of self deprecation. He knew of other girls, like Susan's friend Hannah Abbot, who practically lived their lives within the dark corridors.

Attractiveness was important, for both men and women, because humans were instructively drawn to attractive people - that's why they were called "attractive" to begin with. Still, to no sober mind was attractiveness even a top five concern. Intelligence, influence, money, personality, and, of course, power were all more important.

Hermione, however, was looking at Harry and Neville as if it was their duty to reassure Ginny of her prominence in a non-existent hierarchy of desirability. When neither of them spoke, she huffed again.

"Guys want a lively girl, a smart girl, and one that is sweet." She paused for a second to look at Harry and Neville again for support. "Right guys?" They still didn't respond. "Harry?"

Harry sighed. "Well, for me," he started, realizing that he was about to repeat his mental musings and anger Hermione. "The most important things for me are intelligence, influence, money, power, and personality."

Harry was right; Hermione looked horrified. "Honestly Harry, that's disgusting. You don't care if she's nice or kind or funny or comforting. No, you care if she's powerful, pretty, and has money!"

Harry just smirked and was about to respond when Neville interrupted to defuse the situation. "Harry never said anything about beauty. He also mentioned intelligence and personality. More importantly, you're thinking like a commoner, not like a Peer."

That was not the right thing to say. Hermione scoffed at the use of "commoner," and then snapped at Neville. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Ginny looked interested.

"Commoners," Neville stressed the word for Hermione's benefit, "and Peers are just fundamentally different, and so have different priorities. What does Terry Boot care about money, influence, and power but for his own ambitions? It's nothing to him or his family. To Lord Harry, Lady Susan, or Lady Pavarti, however, it is the key not only to their own lives, but the lives of their family."

"So," Hermione asked with no venom but with snide disbelief, "Peers are so delicate that they cannot live without marrying someone with wealth, influence, or power?"

"It depends." At this Hermione raised her eyebrow. Harry was nodding approvingly. "One, you again forgot intelligence and personality. More importantly, however, you don't understand that these five factors are neither comprehensive nor obligatory."

Ginny didn't understand what Neville meant by that and asked him about it.

Simultaneously, Harry to Hermione added "and you forgot what a cut throat world the Peerage is," unhelpfully.

Neville then answered Ginny's question. "Well, I mean the most important thing is if you can live and work with your partner, but that's not definable and so we rarely think of it when originally considering a mate. We instead look for someone to improve or make up for what we lack."

But Neville noticed that both Hermione and Ginny were confused, so he continued. "For example, my family already has quite a bit of money and enough influence, so I pretty much get to ignore those when I pick a wife. I am not dumb and I have some personality, so if I can find a brilliant wife with a fantastically influential personality, great. But it's not my primary concern. Now, I am rather exceptionally weak, so I need to marry someone who is quite powerful. That's what's vital for me."

"So," Ginny ventured, "someone like Lavender?"

Neville paused in shock, then nodded. It was Harry who answered. "Exactly like Lavender. Actually, she'd be a great Yule Ball date, Neville."

Neville nodded again. "I was considering her."

Hermione had now synthesised the information, and her muggle sensibilities made her annoyed for another reason. "Neville, you are not weak!"

"Yes I am," he responded with a soft smile.

"No Neville, don't say that!"

"Why?" Harry asked. "It's not it will change based on whether he says it or not. He knows when his Natus was. He knows if he's weak. And it's good to know. This way, he knows to pursue someone like Lavender and not someone like Miss Davis."

"But we know he's not weak," she insisted. "We've seen him in class."

Neville said, "Look, I'm not saying that I'm Ron - sorry Ginny." She shrugged. "But my Natus was the summer after our first year." He ducked his head, red-faced.

Harry cringed. Ginny looked confused. And Hermione looked, if anything, angrier. "But that makes you really powerful! Only," everyone could see her doing the calculations in her head, "about ten to fifteen percent of wizards are stronger than you."

Neville tried to explain, "it's not so simple, I'm not-"

"But you are Neville!"

"Hermione, you have to listen, I'm not really-"

"But you are Neville!" Neville dropped his head in shame, large red blotches stained his cheeks. Hermione went on obliviously, "we read about it in Arithmancy-"

"-Hermione-" Harry tried to interrupt kindly.

"-way back at the beginning of last year when-"

"-Hermione...-"

"-we were introduced to more complex math like fractions and-"

"-Hermoine!-"

"-algebra, although my muggle school already covered it, you're probably in the top-"

"HERMIONE!"

Hermione's head whipped around to look at Harry. Harry never raised his voice; he always seemed to have iron control. Harry glared back at her, and, when their eyes met, he moved his eyes to Neville. She followed and saw their friend. So lost in her own mind had she been that she never noticed his blotchy red face, or that it had scrunched up, or that it was now leaking. Ginny was comforting him.

Harry addressed Neville, his recently violent voice giving way to flowing compassion. "I'll explain it Neville. Would you like to take a walk?" Neville shook his head, so Harry turned back to Hermione, his voice once again hardening.

"Hermione, you're really rather smart, but sometimes you say the stupidest things." She bristled slightly, but shot a quick look at Neville and calmed herself. Harry continued, "do you know why Hogwarts is such a good school?"

"That's a little random..."

"Just answer the question."

"I don't know exactly. The books I've read just say that Hogwarts is the best. I've often wondered if that wasn't just some jingoistic-"

"Hermione." She stopped instantly. "Hogwarts is the best. Do you know why?"

"Um... I always thought it was the staff, the castle, the history. I mean, we have Dumbledore!"

Harry smiled. "Yes, we do have Dumbledore, but do you really think that the building or the history of the place matters?" After a moment, Hermione shook her head. "And whilst McGonagall and Flitwick are awesome and even Snape can be decent, do you really think staff like Quirrell and Lockhart help us? In fact, Hogwarts has had a different Defence Professor every year for almost fifty years. Yet, we're still the best. Do you know why?"

Hermione shook her head again.

"Well, let's do a thought experiment. If you and Dumbledore were equally prepared mentally to try a new spell that neither of you had done, who would cast it successfully first?"

"Him" she answered instantly.

"Now, if you and McGonagall tried the same thing?"

"Her of course." Harry raised an eyebrow. "Well, I assume it would be her; I mean, think of how much more she knows."

"But we're equalizing that."

"Um... okay, then I don't really know. It would depend on a lot of factors. I mean, you can't just sit us..." she trained off because his glare had not gone away.

He surpassed the question, however. "And, knowing what you do about Neville, if you and he were equally prepared, who would succeed at a new spell first?"

Hermione tried not to answer, but eventually looked down and said in a small voice, "I would..."

"And why?"

"Power."

"Exactly. Now, we both took the same Arithmancy class. Do you remember how many wizards live in England?"

"About one hundred thousand."

"And do you remember how many new wizards are born a year?"

"About two hundred and fifty or three hundred."

"And how many students does Hogwarts take a year?"

"Accept or offer?"

"Let's say offer."

"About fifty."

"So, you do the math. What percentage of the total population receives a Hogwarts letter?"

"Um... about twenty percent."

"Now, is that the top or bottom twenty percent?"

"You've made your point. Stop talking to me as if I'm dense. We're all magically strong here."

Harry continued as if he hadn't heard her. "So, only twenty percent of the population gets into Hogwarts. Do you know the percentage of Peers who get Hogwarts Letters?"

"Seventy?" Hermione asked with exaggerated sarcasm and the sarcasm of exaggeration.

Harry smiled viciously. "One hundred percent, except the one in a generation or so who has his Natus before he receives his Hogwarts letter." There was a pause. "Why do you think that is?"

"Honestly Harry, stop! It's incredibly rude to talk to me like I'm three."

"You didn't answer my question."

Hermione growled, then all but shouted, "It's power! It's because you're all obsessed with power!"

The windows exploded outwards, throwing glass onto the tracks. Harry had stood. Hermione, Ginny, and Neville all looked up at him in shock. His chest was heaving, his eyes ablaze with struggling power. Hermione felt as if her bloodstream was on fire. She could taste the magic rolling off of him.

When Harry spoke, it was with calm rage. "Yes, Hideswoman Granger, power. Neville is quite strong on your worthless objective scale. But he and I do not live in your objective world. Every single Peer at Hogwarts had their Natus after their twelfth birthday - everyone but Neville. Most had their Natus after they were twelve and a half. And I even know of one who had hers after she turned thirteen. The world that has those Natus times is the world in which half the Peerage would be happy to see the Earldom of Suffolk fall silent, to see Neville dead."

Harry had calmed himself. Hermione's heart slowly settled as the fire in Harry's eyes died. With a wave of Harry's wand, the window replaced itself.

Harry sat down and continued calmly. "The world in which Neville and I live is dangerous. We have enemies that want to kill us, and I'm not just talking about Voldemort. The only way for Neville to survive is to marry someone like Lavender and keep his alliances with magically strong Peers. Ignoring power for us is suicide. Plain and simple."

All four of them let out a breath. The silence strangled their hearts.

Finally, Neville broke it. "It happened, didn't it?"

Harry nodded as Ginny asked, "what?"

Neville chuckled softly. "I told you he wasn't lying to us last year Hermione."

But Harry could tell by the awe in her eyes that she too had figured it out. Harry turned to Ginny and answered her question. "I had my Natus a fortnight after my birthday."

She gasped. "Bloody-Fucking-Merlin."

Neville just laughed.


End file.
